Pretty In Black
by BelovedSlayer
Summary: Angel is a musician in a well known rock band who is notoriously famous for sleeping with groupies and living the rock and roll lifestyle. Can Buffy Summers, a relatively normal college student, change the error of his ways?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Pretty In Black

TV Show: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Author: Beloved Slayer

Rating: T

Full summary: Angel is a musician in a well known rock band who is notoriously famous for sleeping with groupies and living the rock and roll lifestyle. Can Buffy Summers, a relatively normal college student, change the error of his ways despite rising doubts? May possibly continue with an increase rating later on.

Author's Notes: I've been struggling as to whether or not to post this little ditty on the website. But I decided to go through with it as I was satisfied with the story summary. All feedback is greatly encouraged, as always. I may, just may, decide to make this a continuing story, depending whether if readers like it or not. This chapter is intended to be a short one because it sets up the beginning of the story, starting with Buffy's point of view. The next chapter will be much longer, I promise. This story is inspired by the many crushes I had on a few 'rock stars' which I'm sure many could relate to. Adult situations and language is to be had, so just a little bit of a warning there. Song inspiration: Cherry Bomb by The Runaways. Enjoy, guys!

Chapter One

His name was Angel Liam. He was a thirty two year old rock god and sex symbol, constantly gracing the pages of _Rolling Stone_ and _Spin _magazine with that sultry gaze of his. He was almost every grown woman's wet fantasy, which was unfortunate on my part since every female I was close friends with either chattered about him constantly, or claim that they were inexplicably in love with him.

Utter bullshit, obviously. This is much more worse than that silly boy band craze that happened back in the nineties. Way over the top worse, I can tell you. And I was in the direct center of it all.

The way I see it, their love for him was nothing more than a fable crush that will eventually disappear over time. But did I care? Of course not. I don't give a damn if they fall head over heels for this Angel. As for myself, he does nothing for me, despite his angelic appearance, rebellious attitude that he flaunts to the world, and the fact that he's the front man of a very famous rock band that made millions of dollars in ticket and album sales just last year. Not to mention the extra cash in endorsement deals they receive on a frequent basis from various guitar and drum companies.

It didn't help in the least bit that there were rumors circulating for the past three or four years of the front man sleeping with various women that were more than willing to perform sexual favors after his many performances every night on the stage. It was a dead giveaway of the type of men that I tell myself time after time to stay away from whenever possible.

After the terrible experience I had last year of forming a relationship with a musician, my mind wasn't going to produce the image of one Angel Liam within a ten foot radius, nor wonder in lust for him. He didn't do it for me. I keep trying to convince myself of that little reminder.

I rather throw myself against the wall before lowering my standards and not wonder about him on my bed every night when I had free time on my hands.

Nope. Not at all. He wasn't going to be in my mind.

So, in spite of my harsh words of fervently denying that he did nothing for me while criticizing my friends and fellow gender that were enraptured by his charismatic personality, why couldn't I follow through with the latter? Every twenty seconds that I forced myself to concentrate on other matters, my mind would instantly return to picturing a half naked man performing on stage, long chocolate hair flitting his chiseled face as his deep setting eyes crinkled underneath the strobe lights, his body matting with trickles of sweat.

I, unfortunately, had the answer to that.

I saw him perform once at a local dive bar before his band had signed to a major label. Back then, he wasn't the arrogant son of a bitch that he was now. At the time of his very first performance, he was humble, outgoing, and sweet. When his eyes met mine during that time period, I knew instantly that my attraction for him was immediately there. I was centered directly in the front row at that point. After that, I knew inwardly that soon it would already be too late. I was going to lose him to the world, despite realizing that I was in love with him.

Regardless of the last few years that went on by since, my feelings for him never wavered, even when they were now contending with a few inner doubts. The somewhat normal fans were in love with this man. So were the desperate groupies, and they were the groups that I now had to contend and compete against.

Yeah, the odds were definitely against me.

Big time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: Thank you guys for the amazing feedback. I'm happy that you're enjoying this story so far. I'll be focusing more on this story while my other ones, except Forever Will Be Gone, are put on hold. As always, feedback is encouraged because your opinions do matter and are helpful. In this chapter Willow does know how Buffy feels for Angel. On to chapter two. Chapter three will be posted soon. Enjoy! **

Chapter Two

It was the next morning. Well, it was almost the afternoon if I was being truly honest, and the sun's rays were entering through the Venetian blinds, brightening the room for the first time in a week after the crazy weather we've been having.

I was perching myself near the edge of my four poster bed, immersing my attention towards brushing the last few strands of my blond hair that had decided to form into delicate knots the previous night, a silver gray radio blaring loudly from across the room, sitting on a porcelain night stand that I had gotten from a garage sale.

"_With the success of your new album, and the first date of your U.S. tour beginning tonight in Los Angeles, how do you feel about your overnight success?" _I heard the interviewer queried in a sing song voice, unnoticeably irking me as I scowled. I had always hated her due to the incessant questions that weren't always necessary.

And then I heard _his_ voice, and I stood as still as a motionless statue, waiting in anxiety for his expected half-assed reply, my breathing even but my chest unmoving.

"_I wouldn't call it an overnight success exactly. We worked ourselves off for the last fifteen years just playing in dive bars and casinos, so it took us a long time to make our way to the top. It's great to see that the hard work is finally paying off, and I'm very happy about that. We couldn't have been more blessed to get where we are today without our fans, our dedication, and our work ethnic." _

I diligently rolled my eyes. The female interviewer, who was obviously flirting with him by the way I could detect her tone, decided to dive straight through with the next question, which proved difficult for me to hear straight due to my blood boiling as soon as the question was released from her big mouth. I didn't feel any semblance of anger. Mostly hurt. And the need to heave over the toilet.

"_About those rumors…is it true what they say? About those 'extracurricular activities' that go on backstage during your shows?" _

I clenched my teeth together in unison, tossing the brush into my makeup bag. I felt a lurch hitting directly in my heart. I couldn't believe that the bitch had the nerve to ask him such a barren question. Most of the time, in my eyes, Angel was just another arrogant rock star who needed to bring his head back down to planet Earth.

But still, to embarrass him in a public display like that was unbearable, even for me.

Rock stars weren't the most consistent type. I would know. They were notoriously known for their accessibility for women, booze, and drugs, and being disloyal in general. Why should Angel be any different just because of the way I feel about him? Half of the time I wanted to loathe him. The other half, well, I wanted to love him.

Even emotionally having to fight against the millions of fans and groupies, a small part of me continued to hope that somehow, someway, he would be mine, and that he could be changed into the person that he was before gaining notoriety. But who was I kidding? I probably needed professional help. Definitely needed it in my opinion. Call me insane.

Bringing my attention back to the radio, I noticed that he didn't respond to the question immediately. Almost without thought, I clutched a throw pillow and held it between my arms, holding my breath, my heart heavy.

"_It's part of the rock and roll lifestyle, isn't it? Almost all of the front men from other bands I know do it. Why should it be a concern for anyone else?" _He answered casually. Strong disappointment filled me, and in seconds, I went from a neutral expression, to one in which my lips were frowning. Oh well. I should had known better. "_So you're saying that you take part…in those kinds of things yourself? No significant other in your life?" _

Still, I kept a hold of my breath, hoping that he wasn't entirely serious.

"_As far as having a significant other is concerned…I'm available. But I don't consider myself to be the one woman type. I have needs just like the rest of my fellow men. I don't picture myself having a wife, a huge house, two kids, and a white picket fence, you know? I just don't see myself settling down or falling in love with anyone. Right now, I'm here to make music, make money, keep the fans happy, and have a great time touring and partying. That's all. And if anyone doesn't like it, tough for them. I'm not here to make everyone happy. I'm not here to be role model or a savior. I'm just a singer." _

I snorted at his confession; albeit with a tinge of frustration. Surprisingly, I found myself with a single tear etched in the corner of my eye. Using my long sleeve to dab it away, I heard a sudden knock on the door. "Buffy, you awake?" came the voice of one of my two closest friends and roommates, Willow Rosenberg.

"Yeah. Door's open, Will. Come in," I announced emotionlessly, rising to my feet to switch the radio off. I didn't want to hear anymore of his garbage. In comes Willow with a white envelope latched between her fingers. My interest peeked as my eyes caught sight of it. "What's in the envelope?"

"Oh, you mean this?" She feigned innocence, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ears. "Cordy was able to get us the tickets for tonight's show. Backstage passes included." Cordelia Chase was the other of my closest friends and roommates.

How that happened; it's a bit complicated to explain, unfortunately.

At Willow's words, my suspicions rose. "_What _show, Will? And don't lie. When you do, your wisdom teeth shows." I cocked an eyebrow, already knowing the answer. "Well, we were going to head on down to L.A. and catch Angel's show, thanks to one of his managers, I might add. Do you wanna come? Cordy's paying for dinner after."

For the second time, I snorted, keeping my lips shut while pacing back and forth in front of my dresser, clawing a hand through my hair. "Buffy, I heard the interview. I know you don't want to go, but I was hoping you'd come hang with us. Don't you worry about him or what he said. It'll just drive you nuts; which are good and crunchy, but not the kind I'm talking about."

"You don't think I'm crazy?" I rebuffed, avoiding her last words as I crossed my arms against the chest area. I peered into the patio doors that overlooked our terrace and the nearby parks, my face solemn. "You're my best friend. How could I _not_ believe you? We saw what he was like back then. We know that he cared about you."

"Doesn't look like he does now," I quipped, my eyes focused on the street.

"I think he does, underneath it all. He's famous, but he's also messed up. It'll take time before he realizes. If he ever does."

I hesitated, then nodded. "I know."

"So, what do you say? Road trip with me and Cordy to L.A.?"

"Yeah, let's do it." Hopefully the night will go well. On to the City of Angels it is.

Ironic name, no?


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: Thank you to new readers, and old readers alike, for the amazing feedback this story is getting. I'm very happy with how it's progressing and that you guys are enjoying it. Now, for the first part of this chapter, it's going to focus on a flashback from a few years ago. Some of the events of this flashback are based on one of my real life experiences of meeting one of my favorite bands(At the time, but no longer) in the Chicago suburbs, though some of the story is tweaked and made up for this story. Rolling Stone is a real life record store that's still opened to this day, at least to my knowledge. And oh yes, in my part of the country, darkness falls much earlier during the beginning of November. Brr! The situation between Buffy and Angel, as far as I can tell, is going to become a bit complicated. I know Buffy's been a little weepy lately, but don't worry, that will change! All feedback is still encouraged and none of the characters belong to me. Enjoy chapter three guys!**

Chapter Three

_October 26__th__, 2006_

_The suburbs of Chicago. We were there braving it out in the frigid cold, along with sixty other fans who were attempting to shield themselves from the zero below wind chills. Willow, myself, and Cordelia were attending our very first concert together thousands of miles from the warm, sunny shores of Northern California, but we were more than willing to travel the distance just to see _him. _Angel's band were slowly becoming well known outside the area, and he had given us tickets, even backstage and meet and greet passes, to attend his very first performance in the Windy City. _

_He was more than gracious and had been insistent for us to come and enjoy the show, which at the time, thought was very sweet of him. Never mind in that I had developed a crush on him for over a year, so there was a bit of bias going on my part. _

_"Aren't you excited to be here?" Willow had asked me in a chipper voice, clasping her hands together to create some warmth. We were standing in a line directly outside the Rolling Stone record store in Norridge, waiting for the meet and greet attendant to allow us entrance into the shop as we were freezing our asses off. "I would be if it wasn't so fucking cold out. Will, I wanted to visit Chicago, but in the _spring_ time. Not when it's super chilly out. Did you know it gets darker here more earlier than it does back home? It's almost night time and it's not even five thirty," I complained._

"_Oh, come on, Buffy. Be a sport. You know you're happy to be here. Admit it. You're happy to see him again, aren't you? Your hormones are just, I dunno, going crazy. Does he give you that nice, fuzzy feeling? I'm not talking about the animal fuzzy kind either. Just you know-" Willow blabbed incoherently. I grinned in spite of myself. "How can I not be? He's been such a sweetheart to us. I can't help but like him, Will. I mean, _really_ like him. How can I tell him about how I feel?" _

_Before she could speak, we were interrupted by one of the security guards, who was urging us to head on inside, with Cordy tagging along from behind, demanding that he'd keep his paws off her thousand dollar Michael Kors bag. As soon as I saw a glimpse of Angel perching on a bar stool in front of the shop, radiating confidence and dazzling smiles, my heart began to thump in rapid anticipation, my palms sweating despite the surprisingly cool air that hummed over the vents. "Looks like someone's in love," Cordy snickered over my shoulder with a sly grin. _

"_Cordy!" I muttered, feeling the heat rising to my cheeks. "It's okay, Buffy. You don't have to hide your deep dark secret. We are all aware that the first step to getting help is admitting that you have a problem. If there's any, I suppose. Which probably doesn't help." _

"_Gee, thanks for your dying support," I replied in a sarcastic manner. Minutes ticked on by and suddenly we were the next ones in line, my eyes facing Angel's before he responded by standing to his feet and taking my hand in his large one, killing any potential for moments of awkwardness. Immediately, I felt a sense of warmth and safety overflowing me, my finger softly grazing his. For the first time in weeks, I felt a sense of relief. I hadn't realize how much I had missed him. Tonight was the first time I had seen him since the start of his first small tour of the country."Buffy, you made it. I'm so glad that you're here." His chocolate eyes looked deep into mines with a sincerity that was familiar to his personality. _

"_It's good to see you too. It's been weeks. I missed you," I confessed, my words genuine. I hadn't realized that my finger were now tracing circles in his palm, fingering along the slim lines. I didn't care that there were other girls watching. I kept my gaze into his eyes, knowing that he didn't mind one bit. All traces of those smiles vanished from his angelic face then, his mood now a bit sullen. "I missed you too. More than you know. Anything you need for me to sign?" He pretended to cough, producing a grin to hide away his true feelings that only I had seen. _

"_Sure," I accepted, pulling out a band poster from my messenger bag. And that was when I saw her. The woman who was standing a few feet away from us. Tall, slim, blond haired. Beautiful. The woman who would end up taking Angel on a path that would end up destroying what was slowly developing between us. The one who would end up destroying him..._

"Hello, Buffy! What's it like where you are?" Cordy interrupted, causing me to jump in my seat, her shrill voice startling me out of my reverie. I hadn't noticed that my left eye was slightly misty as my mind reluctantly returned to the present. "Oh, sorry, Cordy. I was thinking about the time we went to Chicago."

"I'm guessing Angel's been in your thoughts again? I could tell by the way you're moping back there. Care to share with the rest of the class?" Cordy pressed, hands clenching firming on the staring wheel. "No, not really, but I will anyways. I was thinking about what happened after the meet and greet. I hate that it's been years, but it feels like it happened only yesterday."

Willow's body faced towards me, sympathy morphing in her expression as her hand reached out to pat my leg in comfort. "We'll find a way to bring him back, Buffy. Don't you worry."

"Yeah. If not, we'll drag his ass if we have to. That skanky blond bimbo is _so_ not good for him. We'll get him back," Cordelia assured. I couldn't help but produce a sheepish grin and a flash of gratitude for them both.

"Thank, Will. Thanks, Cordy."

We were on our way to the City of Angels, and I could feel exhaustion taking hold of me, even though it was only the mid afternoon. I glanced out over the open window in the back of the car, squinting furiously as I saw the sun beginning to set over the rim of the Pacific Ocean.

We sped pass the highway, overlooking the calm shore as I propped my feet underneath my legs, leaning my head against the pleather cushion behind me, feeling my eyes beginning to close.

There was a part of me that wanted to go back to Sunnydale and lay in bed all day and pretend that I wasn't feeling well. I didn't want to go anywhere near Angel, much less attend his show at the Whisky A Go Go, a club that was infamous for all kinds of debauchery, considering that it was located on the world famous Sunset Strip, but in the end, I couldn't say no to the two friends that were trying to support me.

What stung the most was the last memory of the Chicago trip that I hadn't told them yet.

As soon as we had left the Rolling Stone shop that night, I had accidentally turned to give Angel a word goodbye, only to witness him unhappily kissing the lips of the blond haired woman. Without attracting the attention of my two closest friends, I wept silently in the car, a deep worry settling in my thoughts: What if somehow, in his mind, Angel was secretly blaming me for the destructive path that he had taken?


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: I shall say it again: thank you guys for the reviews and alerts. I'm pleased to say that it's been really great writing this story. This chapter was a bit difficult to write, but not because of lack of inspiration. As strange as this sounds, as I was writing this, there was a couple of times that I had to swallow a lump. As always, feedback is encouraged. The song inspiration for this chapter: Running by No Doubt. I definitely recommend it. Buffy will meet Angel in this chapter. All places and streets mentioned in this chapter are absolutely real. Now, on to chapter four. Enjoy guys! **

Chapter Four

My eyes fluttered rapidly as I sleepily took in the surroundings that, all at once, were familiar to me. We had arrived in Los Angeles, and not a moment too soon as night was slowly approaching. My stomach filled itself with dread and trepidation as my fingers clutched the back seat with a resolve that I hadn't felt in more than a year's time.

"Finally. I'd thought we'd never get here," Cordelia exclaimed with a sigh of exaggerated relief as she made a right towards the La Brea tar pits. "I rather go back," I retorted under my breath, leaning my head against the passenger window as the outlines of numerous tourists passed on by in a distorted blur of colors.

"Do we have to be here?" I continued with a soft pout to my lips, my eyes peering against the corner of Hollywood and Vine, scouting out a group of young women who were brazenly entrenched in Angel and the Bad Men merchandise, albeit in inappropriate attire that were gaining obvious stares from passing yuppie tourists.

No doubt in my mind that they were going to desperately try to win a night with Angel Liam himself. At realizing this, I snorted in a sense of disapproval. He wasn't worth lowering one's self-esteem over. Not even if you had inexplicably confusing feelings for him.

"I don't think it'll be that bad, Buffy. You'll be okay. We'll get our pictures taken, go to the show, grab a bite to eat, and then leave. Nothing to it. We don't have to meet them backstage if you don't want to," Willow announced in a comforting manner.

I shrugged nonchalantly before plastering a grateful smile on my face, pinching the bridge of my nose that had suddenly gone cold. "Thanks, Will. Really." That aside, I absent-mindedly plucked a slim hand towards the inner pocket of my jeans, reaching for a piece of jewelry that Angel had given me before his career had skyrocketed.

Fingered protectively between the thumb and index finger, it was a silver Irish claddagh ring that had been pass down the family line. Glancing at the craftsmanship, I couldn't help but choke back a sob at its significance.

"_Buffy, there's something I would like for you to have. It's not much, but it's been a tradition in my family for generations. Since my great-grandparents had arrived from Ireland, actually. At least that's what my mom and dad keeps telling me. It's a claddagh ring. I kept it in my jewelry box, but never really bothered to give it to anyone due to the fact that it's supposedly used as a engagement and wedding ring. From what my parents have told me, it's also to give it to that special someone who holds a place in your heart. These past few years, there were a few women that I was in love with, but the relationships had never lasted for long; two years or less. I know things right now are starting to become a bit crazy, but I wanted to give you this ring; to let you know how much you mean to me. I'm hoping that when all of this comes to an end, you'll be on the other side waiting for me. I wanna spend some time with you. I want to see where you and I might end up. I want to let you know that I want you in my life, no matter what happens between us." _

"Don't tell me you still have that old thing with you?" Cordelia queried, a single eyebrow raised. "I'm not going to throw it away, if that's what you mean. Never in a million years," I stated, my gaze never leaving the jewelry I still held between my fingers, my mouth firming into an oppressive line. "Angel gave it to me before he became the big rock star. He wanted me to keep it."

"Yeah, yeah, we all know that, but seriously, I thought you threw the damn thing in the garbage long ago," Cordelia sniped, making a left towards the direction of the Sunset Strip. "As if. I didn't tell you that he gave the ring to me because he wanted us to spend more time together when things died down. Or, at least, I thought he did," I began without interruption, my eyes haunted at the reminder of his words.

Both Cordelia and Willow were startled into silence as the car drooped to a red light, both sets of eyes widening on me.

"You're kidding!" Willow gasped. I shook my head furiously, silently wishing that I was. "I wish I was, Will," I muttered in misery. Even Cordelia couldn't believe it. When I looked into her serious facial expression, I couldn't help but flash a grim smile of amusement towards her.

"He told me that when his career was over, he was gonna settle down and get to know me better. He told me that he was developing these feelings for me, and that he never felt them the same way as he did with the other women..."

"What kind of feelings?" Both Cordy and Willow pressed, intrigued despite the fact that cars were honking from behind as we entered the parking lot of Pink's. Cordelia opened the window to express her frustration to the drivers with a blunt flip of the finger.

I exhaled a breath before continuing. "Even to this day, I'm still not exactly sure. I've been wondering that myself almost every night for the last five years. All I know was that he wanted to get closer to me. I guess he was afraid that someone would take me away from him, but who the hell knows at this point?"

I settled into a deepening position of the cushion, my eyes now looking out towards the small hot dog establishment. I felt a warm hand patting my knee in a soothing motion. "I'm sorry, Buffy. I didn't know," Willow conceded, her eyes soft. "Yeah, me too. I didn't mean to be such a conniving bitch, yadda yadda. You get the picture," Cordelia joined in, turning off the ignition as she puckered her lips over the rear view mirror.

"Don't worry, Cordy. You'll always be the selfish bitch in this family," I nodded with a gruff laugh, tucking the ring safely into my pocket. "I'll get the grub. You guys can say," I announced suddenly as I opened the passenger door, heading into the cool night air.

It was fortunate that there were only two customers waiting in line in spite of the place getting much notoriety for its' food and service. As soon as I made my way towards that said line, a sleek, black limousine drove up to the left side of the parking lot, making a grand entrance as if it owned the place.

"I wonder what ass hole their bringing in now?" I spoke to myself, rolling my eyes as I turned my attention back towards the stand, which was moving in a swift precision, fortunately. But not before I heard the heavy thump of construction boots coming forward as my attention shifted its focus, noticing that the back limousine door was slightly ajar.

Before my eyes stood a tall, lean, elegant man adorned in Affliction apparel, a pair of jet black Ed Hardy sunglasses obscuring his eyes from me, two chains dangling from the pockets of his destroyed two hundred dollar denim jeans as he made his way forward, attempting to cut me in line. I stood straight still, my mouth agape.

"Excuse me. Do you mind? You're cutting me in line," I scoffed, my lip furling. The man made a reluctant glance towards me, both eyebrows raised. Somehow, he looked familiar, but I couldn't place where I had seen him. "Don't you know who I am?" he demanded. "A wolf in douche back clothing?" I suggested in a rude manner.

He ripped off the sunglasses from his head as his chocolate eyes angrily burrowed into mine. For the second time that day, my mouth widened in shock.

"Angel?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes: Thank you guys once again for the amazing feedback. I'm very happy that you're enjoying the story very much. From this point on, it's safe to say that the tone for this will become darker, and therefore, the rating will began to increase as it will include sexual situations. This chapter, thanks to a suggestion from ashes at midnight, will be based on Angel's point of view that leads up to the L.A. show. As always, feedback is encouraged, and none of the characters belong to me. Please feel free to add in any suggestions or ideas for the story as well. I also wanted to point out that this chapter may raise a few questions, but don't worry, those will be answered in the next chapter or two, and that Buffy's point of view will be added to coincide with Angel's in an upcoming chapter. Their situation is only becoming even more complex than just 'relationship' issues. On to chapter four, so enjoy guys! **

Chapter Five

From the private journal of Angel Liam…

_October 25th__, 2010_

_One day before the concert in Los Angeles…_

_It's been months since the last time I had sat back and thought of that woman who calls herself Buffy Summers. Do I care whether or not that I'm forgetting about her? Most of the time, nowadays, I don't. Why should I have to? She hasn't called or emailed me for almost nine months, and I've lost patience because of that. Honestly, when I try to conjure up an image of her, I forget the smallest details: her hair, the color of her eyes, the way she held herself. Does it really matter anymore? She's not in my life most of the time, so what's the point? I have _her;_ I have my syringes, my never ending fix, and that's all I ever need in this chaotic life of mine. I don't want anything else. I don't need real love, and I don't need to give any of it because no one is worthy of my affections, except for the one who matters the most in my life. Whatever that's left in my black little heart is reserved for only her, and no one else. If anyone can't see that I 'love' her to death, they can go fuck themselves because I don't need their negativity around me. Or perhaps it was a good thing that she knows that I don't really love her. As long as I'm getting laid, I don't really give a shit about the rest. But..._

_Friends, family, even my manager and band mates have told me time and time again that I need to cut my ties with her and go to rehab. Apparently, she's poisoning my life and slowly turning it into withering dust. My closest friends, the ones whom I trust the most, have told me to leave her behind. They tell me that someday, she will drag me through the darkest pits of hell and that there would be no way of turning back and repairing the damage. They told me the other night that if I continue like this, they would sever ties and end our friendship forever._

_They were more than willing to throw me to the wolves in the cage. _

_Some fucking loyal friends they turned out to be. All the best to get rid of them as soon as I'm able. Why should I have to get rid of her? As of writing this, she's under the desk on all fours, giving me the best blowjob that I ever had as I felt her taking my shaft into her mouth and giving it a good lick and suck. I bet Buffy herself couldn't take up the task if it was offered to her. _

_I closed my eyes, gasping as I placed my hand through the tendrils of my woman's blond hair, giving it a slight pull as I growled and panted my breath away. It was a good distraction from the perils of the rock star life. Not to mention that the woman herself was an absolutely great fuck. All the more reason I wanted to keep her around. Constant sex was one of the only ways that made living the life slightly bearable on a daily basis. _

_The difference between her and the others: she was the only one willing to kill the loneliness that was becoming the sole purpose of my life. _

_No one else had wanted to. Not even Buffy herself. Years later, the reminder, the mental image, still broke my heart. When I asked her to wait for me, she didn't. Even when I offered the claddagh ring that was meant for only her, she hadn't kept her promise. She left me behind to face the world alone. I clenched my teeth at the distant memory, blinking a tear that was threatening to spill from my eyes. At the time, I wasn't sure if I had fallen in love with her. But it was heading that way. The feelings then were scary and surreal. I didn't know how to act upon them. All I knew then was that I wanted to be with her in some capacity. I wanted her to stay in my life. _

_I wanted us to be more than just what we were. I wanted us to be _something_. Anything but friends. But how do I feel about her as of this writing? _

_Hate, anger, and heartbreak, mostly. And it felt good. Almost like taking a direct hit. _

_And tomorrow, she would be amongst the hundreds of fans who were going to make their presence known at my show. Though if I had my way, she would not come anywhere near the vicinity._

_Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hoped that I would not come anywhere near her, nor her to me. She was important to me once. Nowadays, she is nothing._

_And it felt good just thinking that._

_Maybe I was only fooling myself. I was still hurting, and the only ways to kill the unending pain were sex and drugs._

_I would never stop. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes: Thank you guys for the amazing feedback. About this chapter, well, let me put it this way: Complicated just became even more complicated for Buffy and Angel. I never did say that this was going to be a super fluffy story after all, hehe. As always, feedback is greatly encouraged and welcome. Hope you guys enjoy it. And if there's any questions, feel free to ask. Enjoy! **

Chapter Six

He didn't respond. At least not at first. Nevertheless, it didn't stop me from taking two steps back, both my body and facial expression paralyzed as my eyes began to drink him in, accessing his body language, noticing a few differences that were rather difficult to conceal from the general public.

His gaunt, skeletal cheekbones were more than distinct. It wasn't a pretty image to behold, and at realizing how fragile he appeared to be, I couldn't open my mouth to allow any words to form. I was beyond motionless, my eyes never leaving his as they continued to study him from head to toe.

Already, a few suspicions were beginning to develop in the back of my mind.

"Who needs to know?" he finally responded, but with a cold, stern tone that etched underneath his voice. I had to force myself to do a double take; this was not the same man that I knew from long ago.

This was someone entirely different. One that I no longer recognized as someone dear to me.

It broke my heart at seeing him in this questionable condition. More so than the fact that he didn't seem to know who I was. My mind was racing with thoughts of drug abuse, but I didn't force myself to dwell upon it. I opened my mouth at an attempt to counter his icy response.

"This can't be you. Don't you remember me?" I took a step closer, but made sure to add distance between us as his face developed into a slightly impatient scowl.

"Who are you kidding? I see lots of pretty women like you every day. You need to be more specific as to _how_ I know you. Names to me are just a blur in my head," he sniped, his expression frigid, his eyes narrowing at me as if I was just a mere nuisance to him. "Is this some kind of fucking joke? Angel, it's me, Buffy," I tried once again, ignoring the fact that I was probably overstepping my boundaries and entering into dangerous territory of the unknown.

"Buffy? Buffy? Oh, yeah. I think I remember you. Or at least, I _used_ to think that I did. Ancient history; not important to me anymore. I know Cordelia and Willow invited you to come to my performance, with you being their friend and all. But I should had called them earlier and convinced them to change their mind in allowing you to come down here. I haven't exactly been in the mood in wanting to see you as of late."

At the harshness of his words, my breath was taken aback. It was as if someone had delivered a fierce blow to my stomach. Instead of breaking down to cry, anger furrowed my brows together as I tried not to clench my hands into fists. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to throw the first punch and ruin Angel's distorted visage.

Anything to make him feel the pain that I was feeling while I stood helplessly before him. I hadn't noticed that we were the only two customers left in the deserted parking lot.

I didn't care. I just couldn't.

"I supported you all those years before you made it big. I drove myself here hundreds of times just to watch you perform on stage with your band. All those nights spent at cheap ass hotels; just you and I spending time together, becoming close friends. Angel, what's happened to you that all of a sudden, you became this cold hearted bastard? Was it something I did? Was it my fault?" I could feel my lips begin to quiver as guilt began to set in, but I held as strongly as I could to fight against the oncoming set of tears, my eyes now locking against his, keeping my gaze firm and steady against his towering height.

I could see him clenching his teeth together as he took a step forward. A look of both sadness and despair flitted his face, his breath tickling against my skin as I caught the scent of whiskey and bourbon emitting from that same breath, causing my nose to wrinkle in disgust.

His shoulders loosened before he replied in a dull voice. "You probably don't care, but after when my career was taking off, everyone stopped seeing me as this wonderful man with a good heart. Even my family; they were starting to see me as nothing more than just a quick cash grab that they could do anything they want with. They were using me. They used me to buy them drugs, alcohol, the works. It was only a matter of time before one of them dragged me into using the hard stuff as well: cocaine, even the black tar variation, LSD, crystal meth, you name it. It wasn't long before I started suffering from clinical depression and all of this other mental shit that the therapists kept telling me about."

I didn't hesitate in asking the next question, but at the same time, I was fearing his answer. "Why didn't you tell me about all this?" It was a long time before he answered, and the night air was becoming even cooler. In a curt voice, "Because I didn't think you cared. It didn't seem like you did."

"Why would you think that?" My voice took on a sharper edge. "Because! After when I became famous, everything changed. Even us. I barely saw you. And you hardly ever talked to me anymore. What was I suppose to think? I needed something stable in my life, and you weren't there! I had to deal with all of my problems alone; without my biggest supporter. At the time, you were the only one who gave a shit about what happened to me. Like I just said, things had changed. It was only a matter of time before I stopped wondering about you or what you were doing that was more important than me."

"You're blaming me, aren't you?" I questioned with a harsh tone, sensing that I already knew the answer. He was about to open his mouth when we were suddenly interrupted. "Angel! Come on, we got a show to catch," a husky, female voice called from the back of the limousine, tendrils of blond hair exposing itself through the open window.

I didn't need to see who the woman was. I already knew. It didn't take long before my face began to scowl. "And _she's_ the one who's dragging you back into that doped up mentality, isn't she?"

"Like I said, you haven't cared in a long time, so why should you worry about who I hang out with?" Angel snarled. "Just when you jumped out of the frying pan, you're going right back into it? Only this time, you're letting some stranger in? Are you fucking nuts?" I snapped.

"Better to let some stranger into my life than to be alone again. _No thanks to you." _With this, he trotted back to the limousine without ordering a single item from the establishment, leaving me to experience an emotion that I hadn't felt in what seemed like ages: hopeless.

I glued my eyes to the back of the limo, watching it skitter away. Looking towards the full moon at the right end of the sky, I closed my eyes, praying that somehow, someway, Angel could be saved.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes: Thank you guys once again for the amazing feedback. This chapter here is full of delicious angst, sex, and darkness, so I have to mention that as a warning if there's any young readers out there. Feedback is still and always welcome. I tend to get a lot of feedback asking me where I'm taking a story, or what may happen next. Usually when I get those kinds of questions, I try not to explain it in the author's notes because I want the readers to try to figure out, as is the case for this story as well. Anyways, guys, enjoy! **

Chapter Seven

As soon as I was alone in the dim parking lot, Cordelia and Willow ran up towards me. I hadn't even notice the sounds of boots clacking on the pavement from behind until their voices were calling out my name. I was too occupied with succumbing to numbness and hurt to pay them any mind. In seconds, I felt soft hands pressing gently against my shoulders, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"What in the freakin' hell just happened over here? Yelling over burgers and fries? It's blasphemous, and shouldn't be allowed," Cordelia's voice rose in octaves before quickly noticing the distraught expression that was displayed on my face. "It was Angel. He was here," I responded softly, rapidly blinking my eyes to forget the memories and words of the last twenty minutes.

In spite of my resistance, they still hung heavily in my mind, as if they were cigarette smoke billowing in the air and nothing else.

"He was here?" came Willow with a frown as she approached me, pulling me into a fierce hug. It was difficult to keep a face straight when she was around.

I nodded solemnly against her shoulder, unaware that my left hand was fingering the claddagh ring. I knew for certain that I wasn't going to keep the damn thing any longer. It was now considered meaningless to me. If Angel became furious that I 'gave' it away, so be it. I didn't care any more.

It wasn't worth keeping it if it meant getting stabbed in the heart.

Still, I couldn't help but be worried about his recent revelation. I knew it was only a matter of time before the situation became worse. Releasing myself from Willow's embrace, I struggled to face both her and Cordelia in the eye.

What should I say about Angel? Should I keep my mouth shut and keep his secret to myself? Was it any of my business about what he was doing? What would happen if I kept quiet? What if tonight was the last time I ever saw him again? _Alive?_ Should I even care? It was apparent that he didn't want me around, especially not for tonight's performance. I didn't know what to do. I was lost in confusion; undecided about what to do next.

Anxiety and fear was slowly building up within me, and I didn't know how to quell it. My heart lurched at coming to a decision. I remained quiet, going over on what to decide to tell them while they looked on with concern.

"C'mon Buffy, talk to us. What's going on?" Willow pressed.

"I…," I stuttered, not knowing where to begin. Should I even say anything? My mind was telling me to speak up, but my heart was another story. "Did something happened between you two? If something's going on with Angel, you have to tell us."

I could feel the pressure building up from Willow's words. She was right, of course. Even so, Cordelia came to my relief before I could say anything. "Maybe it's nothing. If coming here is doing nothing but being a pain in my ass, let's, I don't know, return the tickets and backstage passes. It's not worth making Buffy uncomfortable if it means having to be close to Angel again."

Even with relief evident on my face, Willow and I were stunned. Since when did Cordy cared about anyone else's well being? Especially mine? "Cordy, you're not running a fever from lack of shoe shopping, are you?" I quipped. I could feel a bleak smile sneaking upon my mouth.

"I have you know that not every day I think about shoes, clothes, my hair, or anything else in that order. I think about other things. As long as it's not anything dirty or smelly, or vomit inducing," Cordelia sulked, pretending to be insulted as she fluffed a tendril of her hair with a wave of her hand, chin raised defiantly. "Fine, fine. Let's just drop off the tickets and head back to good ole' Sunnyhell. I think I need to get my roots bleached anyways. They're starting to look like my fossil dad's gray hairs. Eww," she continued with revulsion.

I snickered in spite of the whirling emotions that were continuing to pull me apart. "Are you okay?" Willow walked beside me. "At this point, Will, I'm definitely not. I'm not sure what to do," I confessed as we made our way back towards the car. "You never did tell us what happened. Are you up for letting us know?"

"When I'm ready. I don't think I can right now." I avoided her eyes. I could tell that she wanted to protest, but in the end, she simply nodded.

My only hope was that in keeping silent, Angel's life won't fall directly into my hands. But maybe it was already too late.

"Angel, what… in the hell… are you doing? That's the third syringe you injected today. You need to stop. You can't have all of it to yourself you know," the blond woman barked, reaching out to pull a black make up bag full of cocaine and needles away from his protective hold.

"I can, and I will. What's to stop me from injecting the fourth needle into my skin? _You?_ Just look at yourself. You're high as a kite. You can't even stand or sit up straight. You can't even breathe. You're jumping around like a hyena. You're not in any condition to give out orders," he snarled, edging away from her as his eyes looked out of the tinted window, black bag in hand. His eyes appeared as if he wanted to be anywhere else but in the back of the limo.

Some part of him did, but he shook the thought before his mind could process it. He knew what he truly wanted, but he couldn't allow himself to admit the truth. After what had happened earlier tonight, it wasn't right for him to even ponder about.

In spite of the haze he was experiencing, he warily sighed. Maybe another bout of sex would lift the emptiness buried in his heart. "Come 'ere," he ordered, his voice unbalanced as he extended his arm to reach for his lover. "Why should I?" she snapped, her arms folded across her chest, hair and clothes disheveled and stained with lines of coke.

"Because I _need_ you. Take off your clothes. I'll make it all worthwhile." His voice turned seductive, all traces of anger and impatience abruptly gone as he unzipped his pants, his shaft fully exposed to her.

He reached out to unbutton her blouse, noticing that she didn't put up any resistance as he pulled the hem of her skirt over her waist, tugging forward a pair of lace pink underwear as he tossed it against the leather seats, spreading her legs open until her center was revealed, her body slipping underneath his, tearing his shirt apart as long nails seeped into his flesh.

"Fuck me," she impatiently demanded.

She had no idea of what was to come. It was not going to be just an ordinary fuck. This time, he was going to make it hurt. Whether she'd enjoy it or not was not his concern. Animal lust and pain took over as he entered her, stretching her as hard as he possibly could as she gasped loudly in pain, nails digging into the skin of his back as she expressed herself in a string of expletives, her mouth forming into an "O" as her pelvis buckled up to meet his.

In the fogginess of his mind, he didn't see the blond woman below him. Instead, he saw an image of Buffy. When he saw her, he quickened his thrusts, arching his back as he pumped furiously into her womanhood until it began to bleed, loud moans and lust intertwining together in abused harmony.

Keeping her image in his mind, it took moments before his warm seed exploded inside of her, his body finally collapsing in misplaced bliss as he murmured the wrong name.

"Buffy."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes: It's been over a week since I last posted, yet all my grateful thanks to all you guys who reviewed and added this story to their favorites. This is another start up chapter so it won't be too long; this is a way for me to up the drama so to speak. I was going to delve further into the girls' backgrounds, but I'll save that for a later chapter, I promise. That aside, feedback is always welcome. I will try to have the next chapter posted later this weekend. Enjoy!**

Chapter Eight

An hour had passed, going on two, and there was no sign of Angel anywhere near the vicinity of the building. Silently, I glared out of the window, my eyes narrowing at the lengthy line that awaited the Whisky A Go Go; most of the concert goers were female and leaving less to the imagination, unaware that they were attracting the attention of the male horn dogs from the opposite side. Hardly surprising considering the kind of crowd Angel and his band brought in whenever their traveling schedules were busy.

"Where is he? It's not like him to show up late when there's a show to run," Cordelia muttered underneath her breath, though it was obvious that both Willow and myself had heard her musings.

"Maybe he's giving that blond chick a blow job," I replied casually, though my tone had let out a trace of bitter sarcasm that Willow had immediately picked up on, her face in a slight frown. Whether it was out of worry or concern, I wasn't paying attention.

I was too lost in thought and broodiness to notice. Or to care.

"Well, it looks like the bouncers are letting the crowd in, even if one band member is still missing. I don't know for sure, but it looks like some of the crowd are, well…pissed. They look like they want to blow the joint up," Cordelia continued to point out, playing with a tendril of her newly dyed hair.

I snorted in contempt. "Let them! They'll probably be disappointed anyways when Angel decides not to bring his sorry ass here, so any potential of wasting their money will probably happen. I mean, we've been sitting here for over an hour and he hasn't made an appearance yet. Doesn't he know that the show starts in ten minutes?"

But I knew. Deep down, I knew.

"Well, damn, Buffy, what's with the new bitchy attitude? Contempo Casuals shutting down or something?" Cordelia queried, applying a last minute shade of pink gloss to her lips over the rearview mirror.

"I…it's nothing, really. Forget that I ever mentioned it. I think I'm gonna take a walk to you know, clear my head and all. My mind's been frazzled ever since we got here," I continued wearily, all thoughts obviously on Angel's newly discovered unstable condition; as to whether or not he was able to perform for tonight, it was obviously certain that the answer would be a resounding hell no. Only, no one but myself and the blond woman knew what was going on that was causing his unprofessional late arrival.

Whether or not to tell my friends; I was still conflicted about coming to a decision.

What was I going to do? Would there be a light at the end of this murky tunnel? Would things be the same as it was long ago; before all of this had started? My thoughts were interrupted before I could continue pondering.

"Buffy, talk to us. Are you okay? There's something you want to tell us, isn't there?" Willow began accessing my body language, reading the expression that was printed on my face. I was hoping I hadn't been too obvious. I sighed, finally coming to a decision. I was going to speak. I couldn't keep it to myself any longer. It wasn't worth it if it meant putting Angel in danger. Danger of himself.

"He's…he's…doing drugs," I muttered quietly, gathering any once of courage I had within me. _"What?_" Both Cordy and Willow's voice rose in unison. "He's doing drugs," I repeated, rubbing a hand through my distraught face, trying to keep myself from breaking down for the millionth time overall. "How do you know this?" from Willow.

"He wasn't the same person I saw long ago. When I saw him earlier tonight, he looked so different. He looked like a walking skeleton. I saw the bruises on his arms where the syringe needles would go into; his eyes, his face, they were hollow, and lost. He acted like a robot or some shit."

Before I could continue, loud sirens wailed from a distance; the sounds of an ambulance coming towards us. "What the hell?" I stammered, as the red and white lights caught the attention of the concertgoers, who were gawking at the EMS truck that rode through the busy street.

"Follow that truck! We have to follow it," I ordered, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of my stomach; an instinct that I couldn't dispel.

I knew that somehow, Angel was in trouble.

I crossed my fingers, hoping that I was entirely in the wrong.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes: As always, thank you guys for the really awesome feedback and all of the alerts. I'm sorry that this chapter is not super long, but this story is coming to the point where I'm setting up the big moments and events that'll happen. And yeah, this story is soon coming to an end, but just because it is it doesn't mean that I will make the story line appear rushed, which I hate, actually. The next chapter or two will be slightly longer than usual. All feedback is greatly encouraged and I will do my best to post the next chapter as soon as I can. I gotta say though that Buffy and the woman will meet face to face, and well, when they do, tensions will explode, hehe. This chapter does have a bit of a supernatural element going on, but not too much. Enjoy guys!**

Chapter Nine

He didn't know where he was; couldn't decipher his surroundings. He was drifting in and out of the state of consciousness, of awareness; everything before him merely a distorted blur in his eyes. Was this the end for him? Was he nearing death? For the first time in years, which felt more like centuries, a new emotion overcame him to the brink of desperation and suffocation: Fear.

He no longer felt invincible, nor powerful. He felt absolutely vulnerable. And he realized, somewhere in the back of his darkening mind, that this was not the way out. That this was not the solution to end his turmoil and his despair.

How stupid he was. How stupid to fall for her manipulation. By the time he realized what she had planned all along, it had been too late to save himself. From her. And from his own demons. His mistakes were only his. And for him, it was already too late to condone for them.

In the distance, he heard the familiar sirens blaring, getting closer. He tried to move his fingers, his legs, but to no avail. It was as if he lost all sense of movement; completely paralyzed to where he had laid near the entrance of the cemetery, as if he was nothing but a stone statue. He could feel his essence leaving him, making him feel hollow and scared, as if he were eight years old again and not a grown adult capable of going on the right path.

How ironic that he was slowly dying while laying beside the area where the dead were buried. It was somehow fitting for this moment, even if it would be his last.

For the first time, he did something that even he himself hadn't expect. Dying, he could feel his eyes began to sting with the release of unrelenting tears. Without mustering any ounce of strength, he allowed the wetness to grace his cheeks, his lashes, until the trails met his mouth, his lips now transforming into a bluish hue, a symptom that death would soon be near and that oxygen was running a dangerous low.

In the blink of an eye, the memories of sins committed flashed through his thoughts, blinding and angering him to the point in which he wanted to scream in pure agony. He injected large amounts of cocaine; remorse would be the last emotion he'd be feeling. It was merely impossible to grasp in his mind.

Suddenly, he felt a painful sensation hovering inside the chest cavity by where his heart was beating to a slow thud. He couldn't distinguish where the pain was omitting from; he no longer felt the pain that brought him to this condition, only the pain of another's, the pain of someone who had cared and loved him more than anything in this world.

The pain he felt from none other than Buffy herself. He could feel the waves emanating in his mind, his heart, and his soul.

_This…is….not possible, is it? How can it be? _He asked in his mind, as if he was expecting an answer. Buffy herself was the last person Angel had expected to feel the agony of suffering from such a long distance. Especially after what they had gone through only previously.

Was it even possible to sense her pain? To feel it in the recess of his soul? It was probably the cocaine kicking into overdrive. That had to be it, he decided, refusing to believe that anything supernatural or unexplainable was behind the phenomena.

He was probably just imagining it; his mind attempting to play tricks on whatever well-being he had left, to make him picture that he was going out of his mind. Despite his misgivings, her pain could still be felt, and with each passing second, it only grew stronger.

_What did it matter, either way? I hate her, don't I? I'm gonna die anyways, and after that, I won't ever have to see her again_, his mind rebutted, satisfied.

_Wrong, _a gentle voice whispered in the back of his mind. Before he could analyze it, he drifted into a state where only permeable darkness remained.

"Are we almost there yet?" Buffy's voice was harried and full of panic as Cordelia made a rash left exit, following the ambulance that was only two cars ahead. The sinking feeling in her stomach continued to grow, along with her frantic anxiety that wouldn't dissipate no matter how many times she breathed through her mouth and nose in frivolous attempts to calm her nerves.

If something had happened to Angel, she wouldn't know how to live with herself, or with the rising guilt that hovered in her chest. She felt herself at blame, at fault. But she had also realized that the choices he had made were only his, and that he had to suffer the consequences as a direct result of it.

Still, it did nothing to relieve her of her worries.

"Oh, God, he can't be dead. Please, don't let him be dead," she muttered, pushing back the tears that were threatening to blind her vision. She could feel her throat beginning to hiccup as the cars speeding past them were nothing but streaks of dark and neutral colors.

"Don't worry, Buffy. We're almost there," Willow tried to comfort her, keeping a steady composure and expression.

And then there were there, stopping in front of the cemetery where a crowd of people had gathered to witness the scene. Immediately unbuckling her belt, Buffy didn't wait for the others as she strode herself out of the car, running quickly towards the entrance, breaking the hold of the curious and worried onlookers.

It was as if time was stopping itself all together; everything, everyone around her, nothing but images and distorted visions, leaving only herself, and the body of Angel lying on the ground, in her bewildered sight.

The sinking feeling exploded into a howl of cries and unwavering cursing. "Please ma'am, you must let us do our job," an EMT's voice pleaded in a business like manner.

She could feel the strains of her heart breaking into two, separate shards, leaving her to feel empty and numb in its place. She couldn't believe at what she saw. She couldn't believe it. Not her eyes, nor her mind had wanted to accept the impossible fact.

That Angel was no longer a part of this world. Her world.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Notes: It's been a long while since I last updated. I'm really really sorry for that. At first, I wanted to update the story, but later, I decided to take a small break considering the holidays and New Year's and all. I had intended for this to be a super long chapter, but in this case, I'll keep it short in order to get my creative juices flowing again. My guess is that there's at least two chapters left for this story. For all those who have been following the story from the beginning, biggest thank you's to all for your great reviews and support. School has sadly started up again for me, so I may update again sometime after Thursday. I also mentioned in my previous chapter that I would introduce Buffy and the blond woman to each other, but when I wrote this chapter, I decided to save it for chapter eleven, so apologies for any confusion. Enjoy, guys! **

Chapter Ten

Two months later…

Everything was spinning out of control; we never saw it coming. At least, most of us didn't. I, on the other hand, feared the outcome months, even years in advance, and it was not a good sight to behold, nor experience. Everything was slipping through the fingers like the black seeds of a split watermelon. Two months had passed, and Angel was still lying in an induced coma, with no signs of movement since being discovered near the local cemetery. As for the blond woman; we hadn't seen her since the night Angel had been admitted into the hospital.

Whether she was alive or dead; no one knew. But my anger for her only increased a thousand fold at the mere thought of her, and it was ready to explode against my will, no matter how hard I had been trying to suppress it underneath the stress that I've been under. I finally discovered what she and Angel had both done, and to this day, it affected me beyond measure, beyond comprehension. He had told me everything, before he lost consciousness one last time. Before he slipped into that more permanent unawareness of us. Before the machines took hold of his damaged life.

It was not too long after when the media had soon discovered Angel's other side, the side that only a few people had known, but never thoroughly questioned. The drugs, the incessant sex and reckless spending habits; the allegations and truths that had been printed in front covers of various major publications and newspapers throughout the entire country, even the world; all exploitive while he himself had been unable to defend his name.

From then on, problems within the band rose to the point that the remaining band members were threatening to quit. Their careers, including Angel's, were being flushed down the toilet, and tensions became imminent and unavoidable that none of us were speaking with one another. A part of me still blamed them for not letting us know of Angel's troubles beforehand. Before the trouble had started. At the same time, I don't think even the guys themselves knew what was going to happen.

The blond woman? That was the other story.

So far, we hadn't seen or heard from the guys since. No phone calls. No emails. No texts. Absolutely nothing. They had never stopped to visit Angel. Not even once. Not even to wish him well, despite everything that happened. Despite his inflated ego. In spite of it all, in spite of his coma, I was still angry at him. I was still sure he reciprocated the same feelings, but I never felt comfortable in dwelling upon the possibility of what his anger then could had meant. Whether his feelings for me lie deeper than just the anger and pain. I never had the time to analyze his troubled emotions. At the time, I had decided that it was a moot point, and nothing to ponder about.

How wrong I was.

Right now, it was close to midnight, and I stood near his right side, wrapping his cold hand into my own as I gazed into his eyes, the eyelids unmoving. I don't know how many nights and days I had visited him since I took my first step into the entrance of the sterile hospital; at least close to forty all together, but I lost count since.

No matter how many days, hours, and minutes it took, I would continue to be by his side. Because no one else, besides myself and my friends, would be there. No one else was willing to be with him.

In some ways, maybe he was right about one thing. About the loneliness he had felt.

For everything else, it was almost as if we were being surrounded by a powerful force of nature; a force that couldn't be stopped no matter how hard we tried. I was alive and still breathing. Angel was being supported by only the stupid monitors that were assisting in him to _breathe_. How was that any fair?

Numerous fans, tabloid writers, and interviewers would continue to harass me about him, his drug use, and his condition. Some days, it would grew to be too much, but as long as he was fighting somewhere inside his mind, that he was finding some way to get out of this mental slumber, that was all that mattered. There was still a tad bit of hope left somewhere inside of me. I just had to keep the fire going.

No matter my conflicted feelings, no matter the confusion, the uncertainty of the future, I would still be here to wait for him to awake.

That was all I can do, at least for now.

I released his hand, noticing how cold the patient room was as I slithered towards my chair, arms folding underneath my head as I closed my eyes, the sight of Angel's chest moving in relaxation burning itself into my mind.

There was no way I was going to let him leave me. Nor would I.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Notes: Well, here it is guys. This is the chapter in which Buffy will finally meet up against the blond woman. Cue the violins, and maybe security, hehe. There's one more chapter left for this story. This has been really enjoyable to write, and I'm so happy with the way it turned out, for the most part. Will Buffy and Angel get their happy ending? Will Angel realize his mistakes and find a way to make it right? We shall see. In the meantime, thank you all for the wonderful feedback. As always, it's appreciated. Now, on to the chapter. Enjoy!**

Chapter Eleven

A day had passed and there were still no signs of improvement on Angel's part. It was morning; not close to the early afternoon, and I stood beside him, my hand clasping onto his. The slim fingers were warm, but also the slightest of cool against my touch; the skin color a little disorientated, much to my dismay. I don't remember how many times I have tried to speak to him, but today it would be no exception. I placed a chaste kiss to his hand, trying so hard not to fall into tears; trying so hard to not let my emotions overwhelm me to the breaking point of no return.

I had to find a way to bring him out somehow, even if it turned out to be useless in the end. Anything was better than the feeling of desperation and hopelessness that was cradling my heart. "Angel, can you hear me? Are you there?"

No response. It was typical, but it wouldn't stop me in the least. I wasn't going to give up that easily. I had to keep going, for him and for myself. "Angel, please, open your eyes," I continued. I could feel my lips whimpering against my will. I traced the curve of his lips with the tip of my finger, wanting to kiss it against my own. Wanting to feel the taste of it against my tongue.

"I know the past few months haven't been the best for us. I'm not so sure how we even got to this point, and honestly, it scares the living shit out of me because I worried about how you felt about me, about us. After what you had told me in the parking lot, I was hurting, and I was so angry at you. And then all of this happened. But I think I now understand how you could feel so lonely, even with your success and fame. I never intended to make you feel that way. Never. I don't know how I can make you understand that I would never hurt you. I wish there was a way I could open up to you and tell you everything. But I don't know if I can. I'm too scared that it might make things worse for us."

A knock on the door interrupted me, but I ignored it. I had to force myself to let the feelings out; the feelings that for so long, I had tried to bury, even though a part of me had wanted to set them free from the very beginning.

"I wish you could just wake up. Don't you want to listen to what I have to say? I need to know if you're okay in there, and that I'm not losing you. I don't want to lose you. I won't. I can't. Not after all this."

Another hardening knock on the door, and I cursed underneath my breath, releasing my hand from Angel's, furiously wiping away the tears with the sleeve of my jacket.

"Who is it?" I called out impatiently. No one answered. I tried again, only this time, I gritted my teeth as I stood near the door, my ear pressed against it. "I said, who is it? If you don't answer, I'll call security on you."

I almost wanted to snarl. "Open the door," an unfamiliar female voice answered from the other side. I had a bad feeling enveloping in the pit of my stomach. I hesitated in whether to allow her to come inside or not.

Despite my inner protest, I unbolted the lock, allowing her entrance. It was then that the hairs on the back of my neck rose in unison. It was the blond woman. My knuckles formed into fists, my facial expression marring into seething rage. "What the hell are you doing here?" I didn't care that I lost all formal manners.

"Oh, just checking to see if _he's_ alright. I missed him, you know. We were close and all. Now, aren't you going to let me in?" she taunted in a smooth, emotionless voice, hands in her pockets as her heels clacked on the polished floor. I wanted to punch her in the face then, but I didn't want to create any unnecessary attention from security. I nodded curtly, my eyes never leaving her calculating expression. "Go on ahead," I answered sternly, my lip curling while my eyes narrowed.

"Thank you." Her voice was anything other than welcoming and grateful.

"Like I said, what in the hell are you doing here? If you don't think that you had nothing to do with him being in the coma, you're dead wrong. He told me everything. Before he became like this," I stated, folding my arms across my chest as I stood defiantly on the left side of Angel's bed, my eyes full of fire.

I wasn't afraid of her. More than anything, I felt dispassionate anger. For him.

It would be minutes before she opened her mouth to speak. "Oh, and let me guess, he never told you about us? That we had a sexual relationship going on, him and I? He never told you that we had sexual relations the night you and him were in the parking lot?"

My lips fell flat. That was about the only thing Angel hadn't told me. If it was done out of shame or embarrassment, I wouldn't have ever known. In the end, did it matter?

I shook my head resoundingly. "That doesn't matter to me. What matters is that your drugs, your influence, put him here! He hasn't moved or woken in almost three months! Because _you_ put him there! _You_ made him hate me!" My voice rosed, my mind startled by the frank admission. Did she really poisoned his mind to hate me?

Before she had entered his life, he wouldn't have thought such a thing. But the more my mind pondered about it, the more I felt that it was somehow the truth. My heart wasn't questioning the possibility. Then I decided to press forward, not allowing to give her any leverage. "You wanted him for yourself. All along, you wanted him for you," I realized with sudden clarity.

I could see that I was right. Her facial expression changed to one that matched my own. Anger. But jealousy also mixed in between. For a nano second, a grim smile flitted my mouth before vanishing. "Damn straight, bitch. Though he never felt the same. Every time we were together, he would always talk about you. No matter what I did; clothes, makeup, money, sex, it was never enough for him. He would always be talking about how wonderful you were, how amazing you were. How you were the one who gave him strength. He told me once that he was in love with you; that he was afraid you didn't feel the same. That's why he did the things that he did. He was afraid that you didn't love him."

I was taken aback. Angel loved me_?_ My shocked expression vanished before she could process it. "Just as I had always loved him. Now get out. I don't want to see your face here anymore." I pointed to the door. Heels clacking angrily, she ventured out, leaving me alone with a motionless Angel while the heart monitor continued to beep monotonously. I perched on the edge of the bed, my hand on his lap.

I never realized that throughout the entire ordeal, Angel had been listening.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Notes: Well, guys, here it is, chapter twelve of Pretty In Black. I hope it's not too disappointing. About the ending, I wanted to venture off into something different that didn't have the typical happy ever after bit, because it doesn't fit in with the dark theme of this story whatsoever, and I wanted for it to be more realistic. Thank you everyone for the reviews and for the support of this story for the last two months. I'm very happy with how it turned out, and for your awesome words. Enjoy! **

Chapter Twelve

When I called out Angel's name, my hopes were raised in that he could finally hear me. It turned out to be a huge disappointment in the end.

He remained motionless in the coma, eyes unopened, movements slow and still, completely unaffected by the events of the last few minutes. I felt stupid for making such an assumption in the first place. I should had known that he wasn't just going to slip out of the coma that easily. It was inevitable.

High hopes were such bullshit to buy into, I sadly realized in misery.

I shook my head, my chest feeling hollow, as if my heart wasn't there anymore. It certainly felt like it from the way things were progressing. "I made a mistake. A huge one. For a second, I thought I saw your eyes opening; that you were trying to listen. I'm so sorry." I squeezed his hand, begging that he would forgive me somehow; that spiritually, he was watching over me. I needed him by my side, and it was so damn hard not to break down by the sheer thought of it.

"Are you ever going to wake up? We all need you,you know_. I_ need you. Why can't you hear us?" Still no response on his part, and the last drop of my hope was beginning to dwindle away as I perched on the edge of his bed, both hands pressed to my face as I let the tears brim my eyes without putting up much of a fight to stop them.

I had no strength left in me anymore, much less any faith. I didn't know what to do at this point. If he didn't wake up, would the doctors proceed in removing his feeding tube? I shuddered at the frightening possibility that lied ahead. It was so disheartening that I felt as if I was going to die by heartbreak alone.

For it to be that simple to take his life away, it made me sick to my stomach, and it angered me beyond words, beyond expression. I couldn't stand that such a thing existed, even if there was a possibility that the person was internally suffering.

And then it hit me. Whatever was going to happen in the next moments, I would take off. I wasn't going to be here anymore. Before I could change my mind, my thoughts were broken in half by the door opening before me.

"Hey, Buffy. How's he doing?" The quietness of the room was interrupted by Cordelia and Willow's arrival, weariness and heartbreak written on their exhausted faces, along with a couple of doctors in white trench coats, both holding charts in their hands. I took a deep breath, wanting to continue crying, wanting to get away from it all.

The emotional stress was slowly killing me. One by one as I tried to clear my frazzled thoughts.

I knew why they were here. There was no need to ask. I didn't know how to deal with the question in my head anymore. Everything was spinning out of control, and there was no way to stop the speeding train that was rapidly heading our way.

"What are you gonna tell me know that I don't already know?" I asked emotionlessly, not leaving Angel's side as I feared the worst, feeling my stomach plummeting into the deepest depths of hell. Who was I kidding? What I was going through was hell. The literal hell couldn't compare.

I held on to Angel's hand, not letting go, hoping against all hope that there was good news and not the bad. I didn't want to hear any more of the latter whatsoever.

"I'm sorry, Miss Summers. We've been monitoring his activity over the past two months and there is still no change. If you had made your decision, we would like to remove the feeding tube and turn off his life support. We think it'll be for the best," a female doctor began, but it was enough to prepare me to storm my way out.

I didn't want to hear anymore of her words, so I released Angel's hand and strutted out of the hospital room, never looking back as furious tears blurred my vision.

It would be the last time I would see him and my friends again.

**A/N: Oh, guys, I hope you didn't think that I was gonna leave the story to end like this. Absolutely not. I was going to let this be the final chapter, but thanks to a reviewer, I decided to write an epilogue, which will be posted this week. I promise, it will get better. **


	13. Epilogue

**Author's Notes: Well guys, this is really the end of the story, which has been wonderful to write and concoct. Thank you all for the supportive reviews, favorite alerts, story alerts, and author alerts. I hope the epilogue makes up for what I had done to Buffy and Angel. As always, feedback is encouraged. Enjoy! **

Epilogue

_We're running, keep holding my hand, so we don't get separated…._

I neared the only Greyhound bus station that was open at this time of night, my eyes solely focusing on the almost empty road ahead of me. The sky was clear and filled with millions of stars, and it felt as if my chest was yearning to reach for them. _They_ didn't know where I was going; I didn't leave them a trace of my whereabouts, not even a single piece of paper. I preferred it that way, though deep down, it was leaving me in silent agony.

It was better not to know what became of Angel; if his body had finally lost the essence that was his soul.

With the long distance that now separated us, the longing for him hadn't wavered, in spite of how many times I had tried to suppress it. For the rest of the day until my leaving, it had remained in my heart.

And it was still there.

The image of him; of his smiles, of his conflicted emotions, continued to burn vividly in my mind.

My melancholic thoughts were quickly interrupted by the chirping of a cell phone that I had left in the armchair during the previous night. For the tenth time this evening, I ignored it, letting the phone to continue ringing until it lost the fight to be answered.

_No use calling me. I'm not going back, _I thought adamantly, swerving a left into the bare parking lot of the bus station, the lights of the small cement building flicking against the shadowed desert landscape.

_Here we are. This is it. The unspoken goodbye, _I thought mutely, shifting the car to enter a spot closest to the station entrance, turning off the ignition without paying much attention to it. I stared through the windshield, pondering in thought as my hand reached through the polyester handle of my gym bag. It was the only bag I held with me. I didn't need anything else.

_Except him. You're forgetting him, you know that? You're _leaving _him behind, _a voice in my mind retorted coldly.

_Does it even matter anymore? He's probably dead. _

_Don't be so sure, _the voice stated as a matter of fact. Another pause and then I tugged at the bag, opening the driver's door, welcoming the slightly cool air into my lungs as I inhaled its freshness, my eyes temporarily closin as I ignored my mind's voice without giving it another thought.

I reached for the ticket that was hiding deep within my back jean pocket, holding it as if it was my last chance.

_You sure you want to do this? It's not too late to turn back. There's still time…_

I'm sure," I answered loudly, taking the first steps to enter the automatic double doors, noticing that there was no other passengers but myself and a man sitting near the far right corner, clothed in a gray hoodie and leather jacket while hunching over a magazine, his back facing me.

I couldn't see his face from where I was standing.

I shrugged in nonchalance as I strode towards the ticket booth, handing the ticket to a stocky male attendant.

"Bus to New York will be leaving in five minutes, ma'am, " he announced with a sweep of his arm. I simply nodded before turning to take an available seat, a cheap plastic orange chair that was not so far from where the hooded stranger was sitting.

I perched on it carefully, my eyes weary as they held onto the man's protruding back. Abruptly, I turned my eyes to study the scratches that etched the dirty floor, pretending not to notice the familiarity of the way the man was carrying himself.

"Heading to New York on a late night like this?" the man intercepted, causing me to slightly jump out of my chair in startled reverie. "Not like it's any of your business," I replied defensively. Not a moment too soon and the intercom sprang to life, motioning that the bus to New York was preparing to take off for the destination ahead. Without glancing at the man beside me, I picked up my bag, then dashed head first for the terminal.

I could feel the phone pressing against my leg, vibrating, signaling yet another awaiting call. As I had done previously, I didn't answer. I made my way towards the line that led to the exit door, waiting for my bag to process before taking the first step into the bus, the scents of pine cleaner and popcorn wafting in the slightly stale air.

The bus was empty, save for the driver and myself. I decided to take the last seat towards the end, clutching my bag to my chest before feeling a strong arm pulling at me from behind.

"Mind if I sit next to you?" The grey hooded stranger asked politely, his face still hidden. I noticed distinctively that a cane was nestled under his left arm. I shrugged before nodding. "Sure." Offering to assist him, he hooked his right arm against mine, the touch sending inexplicable shivers to run through my skin.

We took our seats, but I made sure to add some distance between us as we were settling in. "Thanks," the man mumbled. Again, I nodded sternly, feeling uncomfortable for no apparent reason. "So, why New York?" He pressed out of curiosity. I could feel his eyes on me. "I didn't want to see someone I care about lose his life," I answered dully, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders at that moment.

"Someone you love?"

I hesitated before answering, peering out of the tinted window. "Yeah."

"And you think running away is the best way to deal with it?" He continued, turning to glare at me but always managing to keep his face under the hood. His tone was anything but accusatory. "What makes you think that?" I snapped.

"I could see it on your face. You love him, don't you? So why are you doing this?"

"He was a well-known musician. For a while, he was successful. Soon, his problems with drugs escalated until he couldn't control it; problems that not a lot of people were aware about at the time. He became involved with a woman who was only enabling his addiction. We knew each other for years, but the inevitable happened in that we lost some contact, till we saw each other in L.A. recently. Not too long ago, he ended up in a coma," I stated, twirling my fingers in a helpless gesture.

"All that time, I never knew that he had feelings for me. I didn't reciprocate those feelings until he ended up in the _hospital._ I had no idea that he loved me." At my confession, shame and guilt rode through me for the millionth time.

"He still does," the man answered cryptically, causing my eyebrows to raise in unison. Under the florescent light of the roof, he pulled the edge of the hoodie down, revealing himself to me. I couldn't believe it.

It was Angel. And he was alive.

"What the hell?" I shrieked. I didn't know whether to be angry, or to cry with instant relief. But as soon as his hand pressed itself against my face, calmness overcame me. "But…how?" The tears begin to flow, but his face was distorted before my eyes.

"A miracle. That's what happened. _You_ brought me back, Buffy," Angel cajoled, bringing me into his arms as I wrapped my own around his waist, my mind still in disbelief. I didn't care that the driver was watching us. "Somehow, in the coma, I heard everything you've said. I knew then that you loved me, even if you didn't say the words at the time. After everything, it was enough to bring me back. I couldn't bear to lose you."

"As I didn't want to lose you either. Not then, not now. But I couldn't be there to watch you die." My words stumbled, but I continued. "I'm so sorry that I left you. I'm sorry for not being there for you, when I should of."

"Don't be. I had to learn my lesson the hard way, unfortunately. I know it's a long shot, but will you give us another chance? I know, it's not going to be easy. Not with the press scrutiny, or my issues, but I want you there with me. You're the strength that I need to help fight my demons." He took my hand into his, his darkened gaze locking my own with a passion that wasn't there before.

"We'll make this work," I confirmed, pressing my lips against his chin. I knew going on the same path with him wasn't going to be a walk in the park, but I was willing to give him a chance to make things right. Not for me, but for himself, and for those that he did wrong.

The blonde woman? That was another story.

"We will," he replied softly, taking my lips into his as our tongues clashed against one another. I stopped the kiss, wanting to say the words that needed to be said. "I love you," I whispered, my finger caressing the curve of his mouth.

"I always loved you," Angel cried." Even when I was confused, it never stopped me from loving you."

For a minute, things were quiet between us, until he broke the silence. "You want to get out of this bus?"

A part of me wanted to, but the other part also wanted to go someplace where Angel and I could have the chance to repair things. For now, I wanted him for myself.

For now, I wanted to keep the world away from him. For his own protection.

When the time is right, we would go back to Sunnydale. I shook my head. "No. What I want is to have you to myself; to fix what was broken, and to start again." Another kiss to his mouth and he nodded his head. "You got it."

"All aboard! The bus for New York is now ready for take off," the driver announced, and I could feel the bus roaring to life as we left the parking lot, my hands holding on to Angel as if I never wanted to let him go.

We were the only passengers, and I felt nothing but content at that.

As we sped past the quiet highway, I took another glance at him, noticing the purple bags under his eyes. He wasn't one hundred percent healthy, but he was alive, and he was in my arms.

I fell asleep in them, knowing that someday, somehow, things would be better. For his sake, and for mine. Loving him had been a price to pay when the feelings weren't expressed freely, but it was more than worth it. And for the second time that night, he said those three words again. "I love you."

And for the first time in ages, I smiled.

Fin.


End file.
